The Ninth Walker
by herbertpocket
Summary: Boromir never made it to Rivendell and never joined the quest to destroy the Ring. Instead, the Fellowship is accompanied by an assortment of characters from classic works of literature, with varying results. Each chapter features a different character, and is unconnected with other chapters. Upcoming installments will feature Elizabeth Bennet, Holden Caulfield, Hamlet, and more!
1. Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an uncrowned king in possession of a blade reforged must be utterly insufferable.

Elizabeth hammered a sharpened spike into a log and decided that Mr. Elessar (or "Strider", as the hobbits called him) was _by far_ the most disagreeable man in Middle Earth. He had a fine, tall person, handsome features and a noble mien - but his disposition was aloof and his countenance forbidding. The mere sight of her seemed to vex him. He looked at her only to find fault, and addressed her only to criticize her work. Despite her considerable skill at trap-setting, he plainly believed that she had no place among the Fellowship, and had done better to have remained at home.

She secured the spike-studded log to a rope she had passed over an overhanging branch and hauled on the other end, hoisting it high into the air. Then she bent to check the trip wire. It was pulled tight. Any pressure on the wire would set off the trigger mechanism, sending the deadly weight tumbling down upon the head of the unsuspecting intruder. Elizabeth smiled in satisfaction. Eru help any orc that dared to venture here.

She collected her equipment and made her way to the location of the second trap. This one was to be a spiked whip - a flexible bough with nails fixed to the end, pulled back in an arc and secured to a post. When the trip wire was triggered, the whip would be released, embedding the spikes deep in the chest of the enemy. Elizabeth surveyed the surrounding trees. Fixing upon a suitable sapling, she grasped it in one hand and raised her hatchet -

"That one is too slender, Miss Bennett. You would do better to choose its neighbour." The voice was close, nearly in her ear, and Elizabeth had to stifle a scream.

"Mr. Elessar," she said, keeping her voice steady with difficulty. "I did not hear you coming."

"Then you ought to be more attentive. Had I been an orc, you would have been in grave danger."

 _Had you been an orc, I would have known you a mile off by sound and scent,_ Elizabeth thought, but she had resolved not to show irritation.

"That is true, Mr. Elessar," she said with as much patience as she could muster. "Trap-setting requires concentration, and since I am wont to lose myself in my task, I asked Mr. Legolas to keep watch while I worked. I cannot believe that he would have failed to note your approach, so I must conclude that he left at your instruction."

Mr. Elessar looked a bit startled. "In fact, Miss Bennet, he did. There are matters that I must discuss with you."

Elizabeth put down her tools and turned to face him. "Then that is fortuitous, sir, for there are matters that I must discuss with _you._ "

Mr. Elessar blinked. A look of pleased surprise seemed to cross his face, but it must have been a trick of the light because the next instant his countenance had taken on its habitual rigidity.

"Indeed? You wished to speak with me?"

Elizabeth drew a parchment from her tool belt and unrolled it. "This is a plan showing the position of the traps surrounding our camp. I have discussed this with the others, and I feel sure that _they_ will not stumble into my traps by accident. But you will recall, sir, that _you_ walked off before I could finish my explanation - "

"That could not be avoided," he said abruptly. "I needed to confer with Gandalf concerning our route." He took the plan from her and put it in his pocket at once. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I will return this to you once I have perused it."

Elizabeth sputtered. "Mr. Elessar, you have not even allowed me to explain - "

"Miss Bennet, I do in fact know how to read a map. Now please continue your work, that you might finish before nightfall." But he remained where he was, and made no move to leave.

"Is there something else you require, sir?" Elizabeth inquired, restraining her temper with an effort.

"I am watching for orcs, given that Legolas is not here and you are, as you say, wont to lose yourself in your work."

 _No doubt Mr. Legolas would gladly return if asked,_ Elizabeth thought with some annoyance. But she bridled her tongue and chopped down the sapling with swift strokes of her hatchet.

Mr. Elessar did not offer to do it for her, as many gentlemen feel compelled to do upon seeing a lady engaged in an occupation other than needlepoint. But his eyes followed her, watching her with such intensity that she began to grow annoyed.

"I hope everything is to your satisfaction," she said with some sharpness.

Mr. Elessar coughed. "I - beg your pardon?"

"You are watching me with such avid concentration," said she, "that I thought there must be something amiss."

"Ah - yes. Yes, indeed." Mr. Elessar looked as though he were racking his brains for something to say. No doubt he was sorting through the extensive list of criticisms he had catalogued in that short time. "I do not know where you learnt that tripwire mechanism that you employ, but the method preferred by the Rangers of the North is far more sensitive. I can show you if you like."

"I am familiar with that method," said Elizabeth, pulling the wire taut. " _This_ is a variant developed by my father. It is less sensitive, true, but also less likely to be triggered by small animals. My father conducted extensive studies and concluded that the overall success rate is higher."

Mr. Elessar blinked, seemingly at a loss for words, but his discomfiture was only momentary. "I see," he said. "Then it was your father who trained you in the art of trap-setting?"

"Indeed, sir, at the inducement of my mother. She felt it might be useful, should my sisters and I fail to snare a husband by more conventional means."

There was silence. Elizabeth glanced up to see Mr. Elessar regarding her with an expression of mild horror.

She sighed. "It was a joke, sir. You must forgive me; I had forgotten that the Dunedain are unfamiliar with the concept."

Mr. Elessar appeared affronted. "We are not - " he began, then trailed off, frowning.

Elizabeth took advantage of his silence to continue her work. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"What sort of man is your father?" Mr. Elessar asked abruptly. "If he is anything like yourself, he must be a singular character."

 _By 'singular' you mean bizarre,_ Elizabeth thought, but did not comment on it. In truth, she missed her father terribly and was glad of any opportunity to speak of him.

"My father is a retired general," she said. "He trained all of his daughters in combat and trap-setting. He wished us to be able to defend ourselves should the army of Mordor come upon our city." Elizabeth thought of her father, alone amongst his books, not knowing if she were alive or dead, and felt a stab of pain. "If it comes to that, I believe there will be little hope for any of us. But I think it gave him comfort to try."

Mr. Elessar was watching her carefully. "You care deeply for your father, I can see that."

"I do, sir."

His expression grew resolute, his grey eyes fixed upon her face. "Then I assure you, Miss Bennet, that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are reunited with him. You have my word."

Elizabeth nearly dropped her tools in astonishment. Was this the same Mr. Elessar who had spent the entire journey insulting her? What had come over the man? But at once she realized that he spoke out of duty - as a Ranger and heir to the throne of Gondor, no doubt he felt bound to protect civilians, even those he found irritating. Still, it was a noble sentiment and one that reflected well on his character.

Neither of them spoke for some time, each preoccupied with their thoughts. Elizabeth reflected that Mr. Elessar had been uncommonly civil, and began to wonder if Gandalf had placed some sort of spell on him.

Presently, Mr. Elessar's gaze fell upon the nearly completed trap, and he moved closer to examine it.

"Would your mother be satisfied with a man of Rohan?" he inquired. "I believe you might manage to entrap one with such a device, as they pay little heed to where they put their feet. A Gondorian, however, would have more sense."

Elizabeth looked up in surprise and saw a small but definite smile playing about his mouth. The effect was not displeasing.

"In my experience," she said, "Gondorians are often so preoccupied with their own superiority that they are blinded to the world around them."

" _I_ would know little about that, having spent much of my life in the Northern wilds."

"It is easy to take a gentleman out of Gondor," said Elizabeth. "It is far more difficult to take Gondor out of the gentleman."

Mr. Elessar raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could reply, shouts rang out from the direction of the camp.

"Take that back, you leaf-munching twit!" roared the unmistakable voice of Mr. Gimli.

"You shall taste my steel, you insolent dwarven clod!"

Mr. Elessar sighed, his face settling into an expression of weariness. "You must excuse me, Miss Bennet. My presence is required, lest those two fools take it upon themselves to reduce our numbers to seven."

"Shall I accompany you?" Elizabeth offered. "I would be happy to offer whatever assistance -"

Mr. Elessar's eyes narrowed. "Do you believe me unable to manage this myself?"

"No, sir, I - "

"Do you think that in all my years leading the Rangers I never once had to resolve a dispute between two men?"

"I did not - "

"You must think me wholly ill-suited to the throne of Gondor, if even a small matter such as this is beyond my abilities."

"You are unreasonable, sir!" Elizabeth cried. "No one, having met you, could doubt your abilities. I only meant that, having lived with three squabbling younger sisters, I have developed some skill in settling arguments!"

Mr. Elessar stared at her. "Are you truly comparing two of the greatest warriors of our Age to a pack of quarreling girls?"

"I do not think the comparison unsound."

Elizabeth thought she saw his mouth twitch before he forced it into a rigid line. "I must decline your kind offer, Miss Bennet. Please return to the camp as soon as possible. Night is falling and it would not do well to linger here." He turned to depart.

"The best mediation tactic is a distraction," she said to his departing back. "Do not attempt to reason with them, or you will find yourself listening to an endless litany of who said what."

He stopped, his posture rigid. "Miss Bennet, did you fail to understand me when I said - "

"Ask Mr. Legolas to return to watch over me, and tell Mr. Gimli to see to the hobbits and ensure that they are in good spirits. They cannot refuse such tasks without appearing childish, and neither will wish to lose face in front of the other."

She waited, but Mr. Elessar gave no indication of having heard.

"Finish your traps and return to the camp, Miss Bennet," he said and stalked off.

As she watched his receding form, Elizabeth realized that he had originally come to tell her something. Elizabeth sighed. No doubt he had been meaning to scold her about something or other, and would find time to do so later.

Elizabeth was midway through the fourth trap when Mr. Legolas joined her. He had the stealth of the elves, so there was not a sound to announce his approach. She had only a vague sense of being watched that she had come to associate with his presence. She smiled to herself, realizing that Mr. Elessar had heeded her advice and sent him back for her."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said aloud. "Why must you and Mr. Gimli quarrel so much?"

"The dwarf started it." Mr. Legolas dropped from the treetops, landing soundlessly beside her. "He really is a dreadful fellow."

"I doubt he would give a more favourable report of you," Elizabeth said sternly. "And think how the hobbits must feel - far from their homes, beset by dangers, with their only protectors constantly at each other's throats?"

Mr. Legolas looked chastened. "I shall try to have more restraint," he said. "I hardly know _why_ that hairy little fellow is so aggravating to me. But let us speak no more of him. I am quite sick of dwarves."

Bending down, he turned his attention to her trap. "Why, this is nearly as good as elven workmanship!" he said in astonishment. "Miss Bennet, you are quite remarkably clever for a human."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "Do not say that to Mr. Elessar," she cautioned, "or you might find yourself at odds with your friend."

Mr. Legolas looked at her in surprise. "I hardly think so," he said. "He has spoken favourably of your skill many times."

"You are kind to say so," Elizabeth said politely. She did not believe that Mr. Elessar had uttered a single good word concerning her, but decided not to press the matter. "If I may ask - how did you and he become friends? It is only - " she hesitated, not wanting to abuse Mr. Elessar to his friend, "- it is only that you seem so different."

Mr. Legolas got to his feet, smiling. "I do not believe we are so different as that. It is true that Men, given the short span of years available to them, attribute momentous significance to everything that concerns them - and Aragorn moreso than most."

"Quite true," said Elizabeth, unable to stop herself.

"Nonetheless, he bears a greater burden than other Men. He has led the harsh life of a Ranger, with the added knowledge that he must one day reclaim the throne of Gondor. It is not surprising that he is serious. And yet, once one is acquainted with him, one could hardly wish for a better or more loyal companion."

"I see," Elizabeth said slowly. "I suppose I have not known him very long at all."

She could not shake her belief that Mr. Elessar held some specific dislike towards her. After all, he had met Mr. Gimli at near to the same time as herself, and was not nearly so critical of _him._ Yet there was no sense upsetting Mr. Legolas by saying so - and she did not wish to risk that he would broach the matter with Mr. Elessar. _That_ could only mean more agitation for everyone.

"I shall show you how I construct the next trap, Mr. Legolas," she said, moving deeper into the forest. "You will have to admit that this one surpasses even elven craftsmanship."

Mr. Legolas laughed, following her. "Miss, Bennet, I am afraid that is quite impossible."

As they returned to the camp, they heard shouting once again. Elizabeth noted to her relief that she could hear the hobbits laughing. She stepped into the clearing and found herself facing a most extraordinary scene. It had evidently begun as an attempt to instruct the hobbits in swordfighting, but it had degenerated into utter chaos.

Mr. Elessar was fighting valiantly against , but he was losing ground rapidly because young Mr. Took was seated on his shoulders trying to cover his eyes. Messrs. Brandybuck and Gamgee clung to his boots, doing their utmost to trip him up with their practice swords. Mr. Took was laughing so hard that he was in danger of falling off. Mr. Baggins, seated some distance away, was not participating, but there was a tiny smile on his pale face and his eyes had lost much of their habitual sadness. Mr. Elessar, incredibly, was _laughing_ \- and his grim countenance was so profoundly altered as to be unrecognizable.

Elizabeth stared, unable to believe what she saw.

Mr. Legolas nudged her, smiling. "Do you see, Miss Bennet? My gloomy friend does have his moments."

"I can see that," Elizabeth said, smiling.

She felt certain that the merriment would stop if Mr. Elessar saw her, and she had no desire to interrupt when they were all sorely in need of laughter. She turned to slip away unnoticed, when young Mr. Merry happened to glance in her direction.

"Miss Elizabeth!" he cried. "You must come and help poor Strider! He's losing!"

At the sound of her name, Mr. Elessar stopped moving. He dropped his sword and pulled Mr. Took's arm away from his eyes. When his gaze fell upon her face, he went white and then bright red.

"Miss Bennet," he said, in tones of deepest mortification. "I did not see you there."

Elizabeth was at a loss for words. Before she could speak, Mr. Elessar had turned and stalked off towards the forest.

"Aragorn!" Mr. Legolas hurried after him. "Where are you going?"

"I am going on patrol." He seemed to remember all of a sudden that the young hobbit was still seated on his shoulders. He lifted him off and deposited him unceremoniously on the ground without breaking stride. " _Someone_ ought to make sure that there are no orcs creeping up on us."

"You cannot go alone!"

The two of them vanished into the trees, arguing in Sindarin. Suddenly, there was a great _snap,_ a strangled cry, and shouts of alarm. Then they could clearly hear the Elf laughing and Mr. Elessar replying angrily.

Elizabeth sighed. Mr. Elessar, evidently, had neglected to look at her map. Fortunately for him, he had found the only non-lethal trap of them all.

"Miss Bennet!" Legolas' voice was trembling with suppressed mirth. "I believe we are in need of your assistance - "

"No, Miss Bennet, _do not_ come here!" Mr. Elessar cried. Then, low and furious: "Legolas, you fool, stop laughing and help me out of this thing at once!"

 **END**

 **A/N: The next installment will feature Alex from A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess!**


	2. Chapter 2

_What's it going to be then, eh?_

That was Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli and that strange pointy-eared veck whose name I'd forgotten, making up their rassodocks what to eat for supper. They were sitting all huddled round the fire, since it was a nasty chill evening in that grazhny old forest we'd been tramping through for days and days. Beside them, those malenky vecks they called _hobbits_ were seated looking pale and poogly like they were about to snuff it from sheer fright.

As for me, O my brothers, your old droog Alex was all chained up, bound to a tree all on my oddy knocky in the dark and damp, away from the warmth of the fire. No one asked what _I_ wanted for supper. No one viddied me at all except Gimli, who'd shoot me a real grazhny glare every so often and sharpen his nosh.

I was getting quite fashed with the whole business, as I only came along on this bezoomny trip as a favour to them all. It was a deal my probation officer arranged after my last bit of trouble, to save me from spending twenty-five years in the barry place (prison, that is). And I did my best - I was the nicest and politest malchick you ever did see, O my brothers, even though this so-called Fellowship trusted me not at all and would not allow me even a weapon to defend myself. And then one day I got a wee bit razdraz with that gloopy hobbit they called _Pippin,_ and tried to give him a bit of a tolchock. Not to kill him, mind - only to knock out one or two of his zoobies or teeth to teach him a bit of a lesson after he nearly got us all killed in the mines of Moria. But old Aragorn snatched me up by the neck, creeching like bezoomny and looked fit to plunge his great shiny nosh right into the old ticktocker, when Gandalf stopped him.

Gandalf govoreeted for a long time about forgiveness and mercy and all that cal, and then he said: _"_ Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?" That sounded like a bolshy great load of yarbles to me, but I wasn't about to argue. In any case, Aragorn was convinced, and he conceded that I might live provided that I was chained up like a common grazhny prestoopnick and kept under guard.

So that was that and there I was, hungry and cold and trussed up like a chicken on that damp chill nochy in that horrible grazhny forest in the middle of nowhere.

They finally settled on kartoffels for supper, and Samwise boiled them and mashed them into a stew. The kartoffels were awful malenky and there weren't much to go round. I thought they'd let me go hungry, but Gimli shoved a chasha at me, glared and said "I hope you choke."

When they finished munchiwunching, they got to singing. The dwarf, Gimli, sang first. Such a horrible goloss he had, O my brothers! Soon I was praying to Bog or God that my ookos would shrivel up like raisins and fall off so I wouldn't have to slooshy anymore, but as always he was deaf to my pleas.

When Gimli stopped, the hobbits creeched out "Encore!" and I wanted to cry boohoohoo from dismay. But old Bog smiled upon me, and Gimli turned to the pointy-eared elfy chelloveck and said, "Why don't you give us a song, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled and began to sing, and O my brothers I had never heard such a goloss in all my jeezny. He sang and the stars fell from the sky in trails of silverblue and I viddied the moon reflected in silent pools and I walked between slender trees with boughs of silver and leaves of gold. I felt a peculiar sensation deep in my ticktocker and my glazzies commenced to grow misty. Soon I was weeping like a little devotchka, tears streaming down my litso, and I was not ashamed for only an animal could slooshy such a thing and be unmoved.

When he stopped singing, I wiped my glazzies and clapped like bezoomny, only I forgot about the oozies (chains, that is) on my wrists so I mostly made clanking shooms.

"Bravo!" I creeched out, full of emotion. "Bravo. In all my jeezny I have never had the pleasure of slooshying a goloss such as yours. Utterly magnificent it was. However I must humbly confess that I did not pony one solitary slovo, being only an ignorant Man and not conversant in the yahzick of elfs."

The Fellowship stared. Aragorn's mouth was hanging open. The gloopy hobbit Pippin turned to Samwise and whispered, "What did he say?" Samwise shrugged and glared at me.

I could viddy Legolas was surprised, but he smiled at me very nice and polite-like. "I am glad that you enjoyed it," he said. "Shall I translate it for you?"

Aragorn glared at him and shook his gulliver _no no no_ but Legolas ignored him and I had to try hard not to smeck at the look on his litso. Legolas said that he was singing about some devotchka named Elbereth. She was so lovely that old Bog himself was in love with her and made her his zheena and she lived with him in his bolshy domy in the sky. The song, Legolas explained, was like a hymn to Elbereth telling her she was like beautiful and lovely and magnificent and all that cal.

It sounds a bit gloopy when you put it like that, but you had to be there to hear him sing. I said I'd rather like to viddy this Elbereth one day if she was as horrorshow as all that. I thought Aragorn was fit to have a stroke, he looked so razdraz, but Legolas just smiled a little and said that she was 'lovely beyond all reckoning.'

I asked Legolas if he might sing again and he did, something called the Song of Galadriel. Once again it was magnificent, and I lost myself in it. But soon my enjoyment was interrupted by strange rustling shooms, and I got real fashed with whatever nazz was doing it. I looked at the others, but they were all quiet. I realized that there was something in the forest. I could just viddy a bolshy dark shape, moving really skorry towards us. And then a nasty von like something rotten reached my nose, and I ponied what it was. Orcs.

At that moment I got real poogly, for I was chained up like a goose with no way of fighting those grazhny bloodthirsty bratchnies. _Orc orc orc orc!_ I creeched out like a doggie, and rolled myself into a malenky ball hoping they wouldn't see me.

Legolas snapped to attention and skorry as lightning he was up and shooting off arrows at the orc as it burst out behind me. And a real horrorshow shot he was, for the grazhny bratchy fell down dead, shlaga in his hand. One second later and he'd have smashed little Alex's tender skull like an eggiwegg.

More orcs leaped out at us creeching fit to rend our ookos. The others drew out noshes and britvas and shlagas and lunged at them. Even the hobbits were in on it, with malenky little noshes like for malchicks.

As for your humble narrator, I was sitting there tied to a tree in the midst of this bolshy great bitva, with orcs stomping and roaring all about me. I thought this was the end. And so I hid my gulliver in my rookers, just waiting to snuff it. My sole consolation in my like misery was that maybe this heavenly Elbereth ptitsa would be so moved with pity for the poor murdered malchick that she might show me her -

Something moved real skorry and then Legolas was there staring me in the litso. My glazzies near popped out of my gulliver when he pulled out a klootch and unlocked my chains. I was so stunned I couldn't even move.

"Run," he said quietly. "Hide yourself, and wait until I come for you. If you attempt to flee, things will go ill with you."

I stared at him and even in the midst of all the terror I wanted to smeck _ha ha ha._ For what these vecks did not kopat, my brothers, was that back when I was a wee malchick dratsing with other gangs, my old droog Georgie had taught me to fight with the oozies. And if they tried to catch me again, I would give it to them right in the glazzies. O my brothers I was free!

So I poised myself to run, smecking all the while, when a bolshy great orc loomed up behind us with a shlaga raised, ready to bring it down on Legolas' gulliver. And O my brothers I cannot explain what happened next. In that minoota, it was as if the great spinning wheel of Time ground to a halt. I ponied right then that if Legolas snuffed it his voice would snuff it as well, and it was like I had downed a chasha of milk-plus and all the knives were stabbing me all at once and driving me bezoomny. I could not allow the loss of such a talent, I could not!

I creeched out _eeeeeeaaaaaah_ and lunged at the orc. I whipped my oozy right in his glazzies to blind him and he doubled over in agony, with a gromky yell. So I kicked him real horrorshow, right in the litso and all his rotten yellow zoobies popped out and the krovvy began to flow red red red. Then another orc sprang at me from nowhere, his nasty evil nozh aimed at the old ticktocker. And _slash_ there was a flash of silver and that orc's head popped right off like a bottlecap and a fountain of red krovvy sprang up and spattered down on me like rain.

I turned to see Legolas holding a couple of white nozhes dripping with krovvy.

"A valiant effort, _mellon nin,_ " he called out over the noise. "But you would do well to be more attentive."

And the fight went on. I blinded the orcs with my oozies and stomped them with my boots, and Legolas sliced them up like turkeys all in showers of red red krovvy. In all the chaos I caught glimpses of the others - the hobbits terrified, Gandalf intent, and Aragorn looking all grim and noble and kingly. None of them really wanted to fight. But Legolas was slicing up the orcs with his hair flying and a look of like wild abandon on his litso and singing a real horrorshow battle song that made the orcs quail in terror.

And then it happened that I tolchocked an orc in the keeshkas and he doubled over with his breath coming all razrez before I snapped his neck with my oozy. I spun all round looking for the next one and I realized that the clearing was littered with dead orcs and the Fellowship was standing around me and staring.

I looked down at myself and was a bit fashed to viddy that my nice neat platties were all grazzy with orcish krovvy and other things. But I meant to keep my dignity, and I smiled at them all nice and polite. "That was a nice horrorshow bit of the old ultraviolence," I said. "Those bratchnies will think twice before coming after us again."

Gimli looked like he wanted to crack me over the gulliver with his shlaga. "How did you get loose?" he growled.

"I released him," Legolas said. Everyone turned to stare like he'd gone bezoomny. "I could not leave him to die bound and defenseless. I meant for him to hide until the danger had passed, but he turned and fought beside us though he had no weapon." He turned to me. "You fought bravely, and I thank you."

For a moment my goloss quite deserted me. I will confess that for a malenky minoota I was filled with very gloopy warm and happy feelings such that I had never felt before. My old gang would smeck _ha ha ha_ for all eternity if they knew, so I must implore you to keep my secret should you ever come across them.

"I wish to apologize for misjudging you," I said to him. "At first I thought you were a bit soft in the gulliver, if you kopat my meaning, on account of all the govoreeting with trees and singing to birds and like prancing about. But now I see that you are not only a real horrorshow musician but one of the bolshiest fighters I have ever viddied in all my jeezny."

"I still can't understand a word he says," whispered the gloopy Pippin. But Legolas seemed to pony quite well, and inclined his head politely.

"The only vesch I don't quite kopat," I said, "is what you were calling me a melon for."

Legolas looked at me a bit funny and then his expression cleared. " _Mellon nin_ is an Elvish expression," he explained, smiling. "It means - I believe it is what you would call a _droog._ "

And so it was that I came to join all these hero-type vecks on their bezoomny quest to destroy a ring. It's not so bad. I suppose the Fellowship is a bit like having a _shaika,_ or gang, again, even if they are always govoreeting on about _duty_ and _loyalty_ and _honour_ and all that cal. Even that gloopy Pippin reminds me a bit of old Dim - though he is dimmer than poor Dim ever was. And of course there is Legolas with his hundreds and hundreds of lovely songs, so I don't miss old Ludwig Van quite so much. That starry old dedoochka Gandalf is always beaming at me and twinkling like he planned the whole thing, but I do my best to ignore him.

I can just see my old probation officer P.R. Deltoid smiling all over his fat litso and saying that I have reformed, but it seems to me that i am just doing the same sort of vesches as before, only I am doing the old ultraviolence on orcs instead of normal vecks and ptitsas. Before I was just a grazhny prestoopnick but now I am some sort of like noble hero which makes me smeck a bit. Little Alex, a hero!

It seems to me that if you are on the side of Justice and Truth you can do more or less whatever you like as long as you only tolchock vecks that everyone hates. When I was a wee malchick I was happy to be bad and evil, because it was fun - but now I wonder if there are such things as Good or Evil, or if they are merely a matter of convenience. Whose convenience, I wonder? And why?

But these questions do not disturb me in the nochy, O my brothers, and I cannot tarry here philosophizing. There are orcs to kill.


End file.
